Toward Morning
by Vol lady
Summary: This story follows "After the Days," which I wrote last year. Following his trial for killing Cass Hyatt, Jarrod leaves home to make peace with himself. He finds it when he helps a lost boy get home. I originally published this story with an M rating, but I have deleted that story and rewritten it, both to change some things and to delete a scene between Jarrod and an Indian woman.
1. Chapter 1

TOWARD MORNING

Chapter 1

" _Dear Mother. Please forgive me for this, but I don't know any other way to say it. Because of what I've done, I have to resign from the bar. My letter of resignation is in the envelope with this note._

" _I love you and will always be grateful for the love you, Audra, Nick and Heath have shown me throughout this nightmare, but I will also always live with the shame and the guilt of what I've done, despite what the jury found. I cannot find a way to live with it if I stay there at the ranch where I've known only love and kindness, when I cannot show that love and kindness to myself. Don't worry. I have no plans to harm myself or anyone else, only to find a way to live in peace with myself again. When I do, I will find my way home. Please post my letter to the bar. Until we meet again, all my love, Jarrod."_

There was still time to send Nick and Heath after him, the way they'd gone after him when he left to find Cass Hyatt. But this was different. Cass Hyatt was dead now, and Jarrod had killed him. He had come home after a jury found him not guilty of murder, but clearly he could not live with that. Victoria knew she should have realized he couldn't, and that he'd probably leave them again because he couldn't.

And he had left, and no one had any idea where he'd gone.

XXXXXXXX

There was a place he could always go to ease his soul, his Island of the Sky, far away from noise and people and every distraction that kept him from working through whatever problem was bothering him. Funny, but no one ever found him there, even though they would be looking for him. There was a spot near the lake where he could tuck himself into a rock and hide if anyone came looking, but over the years, they stopped looking for him there. It was his place to think, his safe haven, the place where he kept his heart.

But no more. After what had happened there, after what had happened since, he knew he could never go there again. SHE would be there, and she would know what he had turned into. Not the man she loved. Some monster she didn't know. Some husband she never deserved.

Now, when he needed more than ever to be alone to work through everything that had happened to him over the past few weeks, he could not go to his Island of the Sky. He had to turn away from it. He had to turn in another direction.

He turned toward the mountains. He knew they would never think to look for him if he headed northeast, but it wasn't the direction that mattered. It was the solitude he knew lay up there. It was late spring. It had been a mild winter and the snows were almost gone even on the highest peaks. If anywhere or anything was calling to him, it was the mountains, off to the northeast, so he went that way.

He always liked the mountains, how they stood guard over the valley like giant sentries. That's how he thought of them when he was a boy. Maybe they really were guards of a sort, protecting him all these years. Maybe if he went up there, he could find out if that really was so. Maybe they could help protect him now, from himself.

He decided he'd had enough of the deep thinking. It was time to stop thinking completely, just keep looking at the high peaks ahead of him and moving toward them and toward whatever they would hold for him, until his mind sorted itself out, if it ever did.

He looked ahead. The sun was beginning to climb over the blue rock up there. The mountains were so beautiful.

XXXXXXXX

"Audra," Victoria called as she came in from the study and saw her daughter leaving.

Audra turned quickly at the sound of her voice. "Yes, Mother?"

"I've decided I would like to go with you to the Marshalls," she said. "I haven't seen them in a long time, and maybe we can both be of some help with the baby coming."

And it would be a good distraction, Audra knew. She smiled. "Wonderful. The buggy is ready, and I've had Silas pack some food for lunch."

"Let's go, then."

They had a pleasant ride into Stockton. They talked about babies and everything the Marshalls might be needing over the next few months. They talked about what a beautiful day it was turning into. They talked about the new calves in the herd and the two mares that were about to deliver. They talked about beauty and life and all the exciting things the near future was holding. They talked about everything but him.

When they arrived in town, Victoria was half hoping to see his horse hitched up somewhere, anywhere, but she wasn't surprised that it was nowhere. He would not have come here. There was a terrible pang to her heart when she saw the window of his office – "Jarrod Barkley, Counselor at Law," because she knew he wasn't there either, and never would be again.

"Audra, do you have Jarrod's letter?" she asked.

Audra saw the window of his office too and was already reaching to the inside pocket of her riding jacket. She pulled it out. "It's right here."

She gave it to her mother. Victoria pointed toward the Post Office. "Drop me off and I'll post this, and then I'll walk to the Marshalls' house and meet you there."

"Are you sure, Mother? I can wait."

Victoria smiled, a slightly forced smile. "No, it's such a beautiful day. I'd really like a bit of a walk."

"All right," Audra smiled and pulled the buggy to a halt by the Post Office.

Victoria climbed out and Audra drove on alone. When she went into the Post Office, Victoria found there was another customer being waited on, so she took her place to wait her turn, looking around. Everything was so normal, so much like it always was here. It was both settling and unsettling, to see life go on as it should. Sometimes she wondered how it possibly could ever do that again.

Her turn at the window came and she recognized a man just a bit younger than Jarrod, someone she had watched grow up here in Stockton. With a smile, she said, "Good morning, Allen."

"Good morning, Mrs. Barkley," he replied with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

Victoria hesitated. Until now, she hadn't fully appreciated what this letter meant – the end of her son's career, the end of his very life at least as he knew it. Did sending this letter mean he would never come home again? She almost didn't do it, but it was what Jarrod had asked of her. She gave the clerk the letter. "I'd like to send this."

He looked at it. "All right."

Victoria had change in her reticule and gave him the amount for the postage. Suddenly their eyes accidentally met, and suddenly it was so awkward.

"I've heard all about your troubles, Mrs. Barkley," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Allen," she said.

"If there's anything I can do…"

It was the polite thing to say in society, even if there was nothing you could do, even if you really didn't mean it. Victoria gave the polite, but in this case the true, answer. "Thank you, Allen. We'll get through this. It'll just take time."

He nodded and smiled a little, silent smile.

Victoria left the Post Office and began to walk to the Marshalls' house, two streets off the main street and about a quarter mile toward the east part of town. She wordlessly greeted many men who tipped their hats and women who slightly bowed, but she did not run into anyone she knew well, and she was happy for that. She wanted to enjoy the morning, the polite society of people she knew only casually, the normalcy of life.

Then she overheard a man she didn't know say to another, "Barkley's mother – big, powerful Barkleys, she got her son off that murder charge in Rimfire when the whole town saw him do it."

Her step stuttered a moment, and then she turned around and glared. The men caught the look on her face, and they wandered away like puppies with their tails between their legs. Victoria watched them, caught them looking back at her once or twice. They finally ducked into a saloon.

Victoria knew there was no avoiding hearing this sort of thing from some people. It was her own reaction that mattered, nothing else. And her children's when they heard it – she'd have to talk to Nick especially because he would throw a punch. And Jarrod –

What would Jarrod do? Once she was certain he'd simply shrug it off, but now –

It was a moment before she kept going toward the Marshalls' home. Maybe this was the first time it settled in. Jarrod had murdered Cass Hyatt in cold blood. Jarrod had MURDERED Cass Hyatt in cold blood.

She shook the fact out of her head for now. She just couldn't deal with it.

When she reached the Marshalls' house, she found Neil Marshall helping Audra take the food out of the back of the buggy. She could hear Audra say, "There's enough here for all of us to have lunch and there should be enough left over for your dinner, so you won't have to worry with food again today."

"I can't thank you enough, Audra," Neil was saying.

Then they both saw Victoria approach.

"Hello, Mrs. Barkley," Neil said and bent his tall frame to kiss her on the cheek while not letting the lunch basket get in the way.

"Good morning, Neil," she said. "How is Catherine today?"

"Well, I was just telling Audra," he said. "Dr. Merar was here yesterday and put Catherine on bed rest until the baby comes."

"Oh? Is she all right?"

"She's fine, but big as a house, and the doctor wanted to be sure the baby didn't come too soon. He thinks possibly in two or three days, and he didn't think there would be any complications. He just wants to be safe, but I'm afraid I'm not really much of a housekeeper."

No, he was an accountant for the bank, not a house servant. But Victoria smiled. This was their first child. "You will learn, Neil. There are many things you will be learning over the next twenty years."

He sighed with a nervous laugh, and they all went into the house together.

Victoria went into the bedroom to see Catherine right away. She was immediately put at ease. Catherine was reclining comfortably in bed with a book, and she looked absolutely radiant. Her skin glowed and her eyes twinkled. She was going to be fine.

"Well, good morning," Victoria said as Catherine saw her, broke into a lovely smile, and put the book aside. Victoria sat in a chair next to the bed and took Catherine's hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, but wonderful," she said. "Thank you so much for coming."

"We're happy to come. It's wonderful to see the two of you so happy and well."

"I'm fine. The doctor just wants to be careful, so here I lie in bed until it's time for the baby to come. " She grabbed her large abdomen. "Oh! He kicked!"

"So you think it will be a boy?"

"I'm certain it will be a boy. He's been punching like a brawling cowboy for two weeks."

Victoria smiled. She remembered all her sons did the same thing to her, and Nick never did quit punching. "We've brought some food and we'll stay through lunch, and we'll make sure there is enough for you and Allen for dinner."

"That's so kind of you. I know – " She hesitated, but then went on. "I know how hard things have been for you lately."

Victoria nodded and said, "It will take some time, but we're getting back to normal again." Then she brightened. "But you and Neil will have to be getting used to an entirely new way of life."

"Oh, I know, but we're so excited."

Catherine went on, talking rapidly about the baby and all their plans for him, and for their new life and their beautiful future. Victoria could not wipe the smile from her face. It gave her such a warm and happy feeling, a feeling that life was wonderful, even when it had the rough spots it had to have.

It was a wonderful day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nick looked out over the herd of beef cattle grazing in the sun, watching the hands keeping them together and moving so they did not overgraze any one area. The foreman, McCall, sat on his horse next to him.

"It was a quiet night, no predators," McCall was saying. "Had a new calf this morning, over there."

He pointed, and Nick saw a tiny little calf nursing at its mother.

"A heifer," McCall said. "She's tiny, but looks pretty healthy. Already eating like crazy."

Nick smiled. "How many more do we have with calf?"

"Three more yet to deliver," McCall said. "Anytime now. It's a good looking herd, Nick. The mild winter helped."

Heath came riding up and took a place on the other side of Nick. "Boy howdy, this is one fine day," he said, taking his hat off and wiping his forehead. "We'll be ready to start branding the new calves in a week or so. The pasture to the west is looking real green and the water supply is looking good even if it didn't snow a whole lot this year."

Nick nodded. "I want to go on over and take a look at the east pasture. McCall, we'll see you again in a couple hours."

Nick and Heath took off at a gentle gallop. It was good to feel the cool air and the sun. It was the time of year before the insects became too bothersome, when the wildflowers were getting high and blooming, when the mountains glowed in the clear sky.

Nick pulled to a stop and took a long look at the blue rocks toward the east. Heath stopped beside him and followed his gaze.

Heath knew what his brother was thinking about. It was never very far from his own mind. "Where do you think he's gone?" Heath asked.

Nick knew what Heath meant. "I don't know. Mother was right. Jarrod could disappear for days at a time and we'd never know where he'd gone, even when we were kids. I think, of all of us, he was the one who felt the pull the most."

"The pull?"

"To get away. To go someplace else, someplace without cows, without all this. I mean, look at the way he decided to make a living. He's away from here more than he's here. And that was always the way he dealt with his problems. Even when he didn't have problems, he'd take off. Father used to say it was because he was made on the road."

"Made on the road?" Heath said with a laugh.

Nick nodded and smiled. "Mother and Father hadn't been here that long before Jarrod was born. The rest of us were born after they'd all been here for a while. Audra, Eugene, and me – we were born right here on this land and the pull was to keep us right here. Jarrod was always pulled out there. Over those mountains." Nick nodded toward the Sierras. "Yeah, that might be where he's gone."

"I admit, I'm uneasy just letting him go," Heath said. "Talking to him when he was in jail – getting him to ask for a jury trial instead of pleading guilty – those couple days you were down here while I was up there alone with him – we did a lot of talking. Maybe more than we ever did over any couple of days. Makes me wish we hadn't just let him go."

Nick nodded. "Well, I wouldn't worry. Mother's right. He always went away, but he always came back."

"This time, he might be gone a long time," Heath said.

Nick nodded. "He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. But he'll come back."

Nick kicked his horse and galloped ahead. Heath took a good hard look at the mountains, wondering if his oldest brother was heading up there. Maybe he was feeling more of a kinship with Jarrod than with Nick about this. Heath had done plenty of wandering of his own over the years. Nick never felt the need. Maybe Heath understood why Jarrod did.

With a "gee-up," Heath took off following Nick.

XXXXXXX

He didn't know how long he'd been out here, slowly climbing up toward Donner Pass. He didn't think much about what had happened up there so many years ago, though when it happened – when he was just a boy – hearing about it terrified him. Travelers trapped in the snow, dying, even eating each other.

He shook it out of his head. No one was traveling west like that anymore. There were trains, and boats from New York to San Francisco, and better roads elsewhere if people wanted to come overland. The route his own parents took was farther south. Donner Pass was now just another spot in the Sierras where a road went through, a place you could cut through if you wanted, or even just a place to go, to rest by the lake there, to try to leave your troubles.

But he was sure he couldn't leave his troubles there any more than he could have left them at his Island of the Sky. What haunted him would leave only when and if it was ready to, only when he could see her face and hear her laughter and feel love, not shame.

He had to keep going.

His horse was willing, but the incline and the altitude meant going slower every day. That wasn't a problem, since he had no destination and no timetable. He curried and brushed his horse every evening and stopped early to give the beast – and himself - a lot of rest. He liked the time to just sit and feel the natural world around him. He liked hunting for his food, even if it was almost always rabbit or ground squirrel or some bird. He liked building the fire and cooking his finds over the flames. He liked the sound of the dripping fat sizzling on the burning wood. He liked having lost track of how many days he'd been out here. It was getting colder as he gained altitude, but the sun was lasting a little bit longer every day.

On the day it happened, he had made camp in a sunny spot and hunted for something to eat for almost an hour before he flushed out a rabbit and shot it. The shot echoed all around – what a sound! Back and forth and back and forth until it died out a long time after it started. He picked up his prey, took it back to camp and gathered some kindling and wood. The fire started easily and he let it gather some force while he skinned the rabbit. He made a stick rotisserie and began to let the rabbit cook, turning it now and then.

As it cooked, he curried and brushed his horse, who neighed softly as if he were really enjoying it. The sun was setting then. It was a gorgeous sky, deeps reds and yellows and purples. He got lost in the colors he could see over the big trees and rocks.

He went back to the fire to turn the rabbit on the spit, thinking he'd probably let it be in one place too long. It was probably cooked through already, but burnt on the side nearest the fire. Well, still edible.

But it was gone.

He stood up straight and listened. He was not alone here. What critter had stolen his dinner? A wildcat maybe? A bear? Vultures?

He looked in the dirt all around the fire pit. The dimming light was making it tough, but he did see something – small footprints. Small human footprints.

His head spun but settled on an awful reality. There was a child out here, probably lost, probably afraid of everyone and everything, and definitely barefoot and hungry. A lost child – he could not just let this pass.

It was easy to track the footprints back toward some rocks not far away. Little drips of fat helped him follow the trail. He tried to be quiet, not knowing where this child was, afraid he or she would just run away once he got close. He did get close – and heard a scurrying in the brush. He made a grab for it, but it got away – fortunately, deeper into the rocks. He followed in. At some point he would have the child cornered.

But it was two more scurrying episodes before he got a look at the child, and there he was, cowering against rocks too big for him to climb, holding tightly to the partially eaten rabbit and looking with wide, dark eyes.

It was an Indian boy, wearing only a breechcloth and a torn white man's shirt. His hair was long and dirty and hung past his shoulders and into his face. It was hard to tell how old he was, he was so undernourished. Eight? Thirteen?

He was careful not to get too close yet. "So, hello there," he said. "How's the rabbit?"

The boy did not answer or move at all.

"My name is Jarrod," he said, tapping his chest. "Jarrod." Then he pointed at the boy. "You?"

The boy made a dash to get by him, but Jarrod grabbed a flailing arm and held it tight. The boy tried to bite him, but Jarrod threw his other arm around him, trapping both arms against his body so that Jarrod could free the vulnerable hand and the boy could not bend to bite him.

"All right, all right, calm down now," Jarrod said over and over and carried the boy back toward the fire.

The boy held tight to the rabbit the whole way, and once he got him back to the fire, Jarrod did not know what to do with him. If he even loosened his grip the slightest, the boy began to try to get away, so Jarrod ended up just sitting down on a rock with the boy in his lap.

"All right now, I'm not letting go," Jarrod said, but he eased his clasping arms up just a bit so the boy could get the rabbit to his mouth.

And the boy did eat as fast as he could. The rabbit was down to bone in just a few minutes and the boy let the bone drop into the flames. With food in his belly, he slowed down his squirming. Jarrod wasn't sure he would be able to keep it down – heaven knew when he had eaten last.

But I can't sit here holding him all night, Jarrod thought. And I can't let him go. He's close to starving and he'll die out here soon. How the hell did he get out here alone?

"Where did you come from, boy?" Jarrod asked.

The boy made no answer.

"Do you savvy English?"

Still no answer.

"Oh, what am I gonna do with you? There's no way I can tie you up – I just can't do that. But how in the world am I gonna keep you from running away?"

The boy was getting limp. Jarrod thought, is he faking this, or is he really at the point he's exhausted? And how can I get some food in my own stomach?

It was a moot point in a few minutes. The boy became almost like a rag doll. Jarrod risked easing his grip, and the boy did not move.

Jarrod had some jerky in his saddlebag. That would have to do for dinner tonight. Holding the boy with his left arm encircling him, Jarrod reached with his right hand for his saddlebags only a few feet away. He was able to get one side open and pull out some jerky. He sure wished he had gotten some of that rabbit, but the jerky would have to do tonight. He ate some, then got the canteen with his right hand and drank some water.

The whole episode had exhausted him as much as it had apparently worn out the boy. The fire was dying, and Jarrod let it go. He had made a bed of his saddle and saddle blanket when he first made camp, putting it closer to his horse but not close enough the horse could step on him if he was startled during the night. He carried the boy over there, and without removing his boots, gunbelt or any of his clothing, he lay down with his back cradled by the underside of the saddle. He turned on his side, keeping a good hold on the boy, who had not moved at all.

He wasn't sure he was going to get any sleep at all this night, but he hoped this boy was like the average white boy – once he was asleep, there was no waking him up until morning. Jarrod kept an arm around him and held him fast against the ground. Before he knew it, he himself was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Just as the sun came up, Jarrod woke up to movement under his arm. The boy was awake and squirming. Jarrod sat up fast, and he let go of the boy. He wasn't sure why he did it, but the boy sat up and just looked at him. He didn't seem as afraid as he had been the night before, but he looked just as hungry.

Jarrod just sat with him there for a bit. He smiled a little at him, and again he tried for names. He tapped his chest and said "Jarrod." Then he pointed at the boy and waited.

The boy stared at him, then he looked around. Jarrod didn't have him restrained anymore, but he did not run. He looked back at Jarrod and said, "Ah-man-ay."

"Ah-man-nay," Jarrod repeated.

The boy nodded.

Jarrod opened his mouth and pointed into it. "Food?"

He had no idea if the boy would understand he was asked if the boy was hungry, but the boy seemed to understand. He nodded and said, "Hungry."

Jarrod was startled. "You do know some English."

The boy said, "Ang-geese."

Now Jarrod was wondering if he could ask more questions but the boy interrupted.

"Hungry."

Jarrod nodded. He held up his hand, palm forward. "Ah-man-ay, stay here. I will find food. Understand?"

Ah-man-ay nodded. "Stay here," he said.

Jarrod got up, moved over toward the remains of the fire where he had left his rifle, and picked it up. He checked on the boy – he was watching, but he had not moved. Jarrod gave him a small smile and went looking for something to eat.

It took a little while, and Jarrod worried that the boy would be gone when he got back, but he finally shot a ground squirrel and brought it back to the camp. Ah-man-ay was there, and he had built a fire. Jarrod's smile grew big. He skinned the squirrel quickly and found Ah-man-ay waiting with a stick to hold over the fire. He gave the boy the squirrel. Ah-man-ay took it, put it on the stick, and squatting by the fire, he cooked breakfast for both of them.

While they ate and drank water, Jarrod tried to get Ah-man-ay to talk, but his questions went unanswered. He realized Ah-man-ay's English was very limited and he was going to have to work hard to get out what he knew and didn't know.

When they finished eating, Jarrod put the fire out and saddled his horse. The boy just stood there, watching. When he was ready to go, Jarrod unhitched his horse, and looked and saw Ah-man-ay just standing there. He had something of a forlorn look in his eyes, not the frightened look he had had the night before.

Smiling, Jarrod mounted, then hitched backward in the saddle, removing his foot from the stirrup, and reached down to Ah-man-ay.

The boy understood. He took Jarrod's hand and let himself be lifted up into the saddle.

God, he doesn't weigh what a feather does, Jarrod thought as he lifted him in front of him. The boy straddled the horse – his feet did not come anywhere near the stirrups, so Jarrod put his feet back into them.

"Ah-man-ay," Jarrod said, "where are your people?"

Ah-man-ay pointed toward the northeast, up into Donner Pass.

Jarrod took that to mean he understood the question, and that his people were up further in the mountains or down the other side. Jarrod thought about it – who was over there? Some Miwok maybe in the mountains. The Paiute, the Shoshone were closest on the other side, but those were not the words the tribes used for themselves. Jarrod did not know the proper words.

"Well," he said. "That's where I was going anyway. Let's go."

He gave his horse an easy kick and pointed him up toward the pass again.

XXXXXXXX

"Audra," Heath shook his sister gently, and she woke up. It was a very early dawn, and she was very foggy brained, but she remembered she had asked her brothers to wake her up if either of the mares was about to deliver her foal.

She sat up. "Is it now?"

"Coming soon," Heath said. "Sweet Sky. Get dressed and come on down, double quick."

Heath left, and Audra dressed as fast as she could. She was ready and down to the barn within five minutes. Nick and Heath were there by lamplight, watching in the birthing stall, ready to help. They smiled at her, and she grinned happily. "How is she doing?"

"Looking good so far," Nick said. "This is her second. She knows all the ropes now."

Audra saw they had a bucket of water ready, but as soon as she looked back from the bucket to the mare, she saw it happening. "It's coming!"

"Yeah, it is," Nick said, and as soon as he said it, the foal slipped out of his mother's womb and onto the hay on the floor.

Nick quickly got down there and gently removed the placenta so the foal could breathe. It was a male, dark with white stockings like his sire. He opened his eyes and blinked, and as soon as he could he took a good breath and lifted his head. As soon as he pulled the placenta out of the way and Heath took it out of the stall, Nick began to rub the foal with the warm water.

The mare watched over her shoulder. Heath rubbed her around the ears. "Aw, she's fine," he said.

Nick slid the foal gently forward so she could nuzzle and lick him, and he stood up as she did. "He'll be up in no time."

Audra was all smiles. No matter how many times she saw this miracle happen, she was still thrilled. It was life, coming into being right there in front of her eyes. Where there was only one horse, now there were two.

The foal lifted his nose to meet his mother's, and already he was trying his legs.

"He was born ready to run," Heath said.

Victoria came into the barn. She had heard Audra go out and surmised what was happening. Seeing her children standing in the lamplight by the mare, joining them and looking down at that beautiful foal trying so hard to get up and go – she smiled from ear to ear and thanked God right then and there for all the blessings in her life.

"A male," Nick said to his mother. "Easiest delivery I ever saw."

"You know what that means," Victoria said. "This will be one of the most difficult colts you ever saw."

"Good for him," Nick said.

Victoria put her arm around her daughter, and Audra reciprocated. The sunlight began to creep into the open barn door.

"Do we have a name for him yet?" Victoria asked.

"Well," Heath said, "Nick and I were kicking that around. We were thinking maybe 'Barkley's Madman.'"

"No," Audra laughed. "You don't name a horse 'Madman.'"

"What then?" Victoria asked.

Audra thought about it. "How about Prodigal Son?"

"Prodigal Son?" Nick asked. "He hasn't run off, at least not yet."

"No," Audra said, "but Prodigal Son – for the one of us who hasn't come home yet."

He still hadn't come home, even after these several weeks, but he was still always there.

Audra lowered her gaze to the floor when her mother looked at her, but Victoria smiled. "Prodigal Son is a good name. We'll call him 'Sonny' for short."

They all smiled. "'Sonny' it is," Nick said.

"Welcome home, Sonny," Heath said.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Every evening for what seemed like weeks, Jarrod and Ah-man-ay made camp. Jarrod shot their dinner while Ah-man-ay made the fire, and they ate together and talked. It was odd conversation – Jarrod would speak in English, Ah-man-ay in his own language, and over time they each picked up a few words of the other's tongue. It was still only a few words here and there, but somehow a lot of laughter began to come in, too.

Every morning, Ah-man-ay would climb up into the saddle in front of Jarrod, and Jarrod would ask again, "Where are your people?"

Ah-man-ay would point toward the northeast. Even as they came down the east side of the highest Sierras, Ah-man-ay would still point to the northeast.

"Far?" Jarrod would ask.

"Far," Ah-man-ay would say, and they would start out again.

The routine was the same every day – ride a few miles, stop for a noon meal and water somewhere near some fresh water source where the horse would graze and drink while Jarrod hunted some food and Ah-man-ay built a fire and filled the canteen. Then ride a few miles more before camping as the sun began to lower behind the mountains, and hunting and eating again. Then talk and laugh some more, then sleep, then begin again the next day.

It was calming to both of them. Taking care of this skinny Indian boy made Jarrod gradually forget what he was running away from. Being with this kind white man made Ah-man-ay more at ease, and the good eating began to put some weight on him. Jarrod decided he was closer to thirteen years old than eight, and the farther east they rode, the more he really believed they would find his people. He wanted to take this boy home again.

He still had no idea how Ah-wan-ay had ended up in the mountains all alone, but running into two mountain men one day gave him at least an idea.

They were ragged, with long hair and beards, and they smelled terrible. Jarrod and Ah-man-ay were on horseback, but Jarrod felt the boy back into him when they saw the mountain men. Jarrod was uneasy himself. There was no one else out here on the trail down the eastern side of the Sierras. If these men meant trouble, there was no help for them.

The men looked on that boy as no more than a pack animal. They gave Jarrod nearly toothless grins. "Nice boy you got there," one of them said.

Jarrod just grunted.

"Good at doing your food and tending your camp?"

Jarrod grunted again.

"We could use a boy like that," the other one said. ""You sell him?"

"No," Jarrod said. "He's not for sale."

Jarrod tipped his hat and continued down the trail, but with one hand on his sidearm. The men seemed to continue on their way up into the mountains, but Jarrod was cautious. He pulled off the trail into the evergreens, told Ah-man-ay to keep quiet, and he waited.

He gave it a good half hour, but there was no sound of horses and no evidence that the mountain men were following them. Eventually he decided there was no more danger and he was more at ease.

He also decided, while they were waiting, that he was beginning to look and smell a lot like a mountain man himself. The two mountain men sure took him for one.

When they started down again, he gave no thought to exactly where they were going, or how long it was going to take to get there, or what he would do after that. He was interested only in getting this child back to where he belonged, to a waiting family, to arms that would welcome him home, wherever that was. After that – he would have to make more decisions. That thought troubled him, so he put it away.

He began to sing a silly nonsense song he had learned somewhere. It was simple enough that Ah-man-ay understood it and laughed. Before long they were singing it together. "Fa-la-la, fa-lee-fa-lo, I've a long long way to go, fa-la-la, fa-lee-fa-lo, singing all the way!"

That evening, as they camped in a clearing beside a tiny stream and ate ground squirrel, Jarrod said, ""Ah-man-ay, those white men we saw today. Did men like that take you from your people?"

Jarrod had not counted how many days they had been together, but it was long enough that they had figured out a mismatched language of their own so that they could almost hold a real conversation that only they could understand.

In their language, Ah-man-ay just said, "Bad men. No good. I ran away."

"So they did take you from your people?" Jarrod asked.

"Bad men. They tied me up, around my neck. Made me gather firewood and berries. Made me work."

"They brought you up here?"

Ah-man-ay nodded.

The boy said it all very matter of factly, with no trace of any fear that he showed when Jarrod first found him or when they met the two men on the trail. But Jarrod understood better now. Mountain men had grabbed Ah-man-ay from his people somehow and kept him as a slave.

"When?" Jarrod asked.

Ah-man-ay shook his head. "Long time ago."

Jarrod let it go then, but it made him more determined to take this ride as far as he had to take it, to get this child home.

XXXXXXX

On a warm morning at breakfast, Victoria finally said, "Everyone, there's something I think we all need to be doing together."

"What's that?" Nick asked.

"I think we need to go into Stockton and close up Jarrod's office."

They looked back and forth at each other.

"But he'll be back," Audra said.

"Yes," Victoria said quickly, "but a letter came yesterday from the California bar, accepting his resignation. He won't be a lawyer anymore."

They looked at each other again, and deep breaths went all around the table. Jarrod not a lawyer, ever again. That seemed just as bad as the prospect that he might never come back. Closing up his office – it was like closing up his coffin.

"Took 'em long enough to decide that," Nick said. "When do you want to do this?"

"Next week," Victoria said. "We'll need a couple of the wagons to bring his books home. We can sell the furniture – I spoke to Mr. Walden at the mercantile and he thinks he can find a dealer to take it."

She was so businesslike about this that it bothered her children. How could she not be taking this as badly as they were?

She saw their discomfort. "It will be better if we take care of it before he comes home. It will take some of the strain off when he returns. It's something we can do for him even if he isn't here."

They looked at each other again. That seemed to make it easier – to think of it as doing something for him even though he was not with them.

"All right," Nick said. "Pick a day. I'll get some men and wagons."

Victoria nodded. "Tuesday," she said. "We'll do it on Tuesday."

It was decided. Breakfast continued, but in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It happened on a day that was spotty with rain. Several days had been like that since they left the higher mountains – the rain would come and go and sometimes you could see it far ahead and chase it all day without catching it. Now the rain had just eased off when they came to a small river – no, maybe more like a creek.

"Here!" Ah-man-ay said, suddenly pointing, and as Jarrod stopped he slipped out of the saddle. He ran to the edge of the water and looked carefully up and down. Then he pointed to the north and said a word that only Jarrod would understand as meaning "home."

Jarrod repeated the word and reached down for the boy. When he pulled him into the saddle, he noted to himself that he had gotten even heavier and more muscular. The tired, skinny kid was more like an adolescent now, stronger, and now wearing the first genuine "I am almost home!" smile that Jarrod had seen on him.

That made Jarrod deeply happy, the happiest he had been since he could remember. He thought, _this is how a father would feel. This is how I would have felt watching my son grow up._

Odd, but that thought did not devastate him as it might have only – what, a few weeks ago? Or was it months now? He didn't know.

Jarrod turned the horse and they slowly made their way to the north – upriver. The land near the river was more lush and green than the land they had been traveling over since coming down from the Sierras. The farther they traveled, the more excited Ah-man-nay seemed to get. "Soon!" he said in English, over and over, and then one day, as the sun was near to falling behind the distant mountains, they spotted the first plume of smoke, maybe a mile away.

"There!" Ah-man-ay virtually shouted in English, pointing. "There! There!"

He was jumping up and down in the saddle now. Jarrod veered from the creek and cut in a straight line for the smoke. The creek bent back and forth and they crossed it twice before they began to smell the smoke, and then suddenly, on the other side of where the creek bent to meet them again, it was there.

A village of temporary seasonal shelters beside the creek, gardens planted nearby with what looked like a wild kind of corn and some vine growing lower to the ground. There were Indian children playing and adults watching.

Ah-man-ay shouted something in his own language. Jarrod stopped the horse, and Ah-man-ay hurried down. He scrambled across the stream on shaky rocks but never lost his balance. The people stopped and watched him come over. He babbled like crazy in his own language as he crossed and on the other side, Jarrod saw and heard two women crying out loud with joy, with relief from pain, with arms spread out wide that Ah-man-ay ran into.

Jarrod saw his young friend come home. He saw a boy's mother find him safe and sound and redeemed from whatever disaster had befallen him. He saw love.

Ah-man-ay babbled like crazy. Men came from other places in the camp, looking on curiously, then looking at Jarrod across the river curiously – and suspiciously.

Ah-man-ay ran toward Jarrod, pointing toward him, talking fast in his own language and trying to make the people around him understand something. Jarrod hoped it was that Jarrod was his friend, but he did not move at all. He watched. He waited to see what would happen.

The women all suddenly burst into tears and words in their own language tumbled out. They all ran to the riverbank with Ah-man-ay, and Ah-man-ay waved him over and yelled, "You come!" in English, then again in that secret language he and Jarrod had developed.

The women and the children beckoned him to come over. The men still stood silently, but Jarrod did not see a threat in their eyes, so he carefully guided his horse across the stream, and as soon as he was on the other side, he was surrounded by happy children, tearful women, and Ah-man-ay, still talking a mile a minute in his own language.

Smiling, Jarrod eased himself from the saddle. The women and children all reached to touch him, tears and laughter everywhere. And one of the men made his way to him.

"Hello," the man said in good English. "Thank you."

Jarrod wasn't sure who this man was, but he seemed to be someone special to Ah-man-ay, who moved next to him.

Ah-man-ay said in their secret language, "This is my father."

Jarrod grinned. "Hello," he said to the man. "I am happy to bring your son home."

XXXXXXXX

The rejoicing continued long into the night. Jarrod sat cross-legged on the ground, eating fresh fish and roots of some wild vegetable and what looked like some sort of summer squash from the garden. After so much time of squirrel and rabbit, it was absolutely delicious.

The children played games and Ah-man-ay played with them. The women continued to smile and cry at the same time, and a woman Jarrod suspected was Ah-man-ay's mother kept grabbing and pulling the boy close, as if she could not believe he was real, as if she was afraid she'd lose him again.

Ah-man-ay's father did his best to speak in English and answer Jarrod's questions. "My son was taken from us three months ago. We are Shoshone and Paiute family. We summer here by this water many years. Ah-man-ay left the village to get wood for fire and was gone. His mother wept until this day when you bring him back to us."

The man's name was Ka-ten-ay. He began to weep himself when he talked about his son going missing. Jarrod said, "I found him far up in the mountains, more than one month ago. He was alone and hungry. I think some white mountain men took him."

Ka-ten-ay said, "We do not know. No one saw."

Jarrod said, "I was alone. I fed him, and he showed me the way here."

"You do not seem like the other men of the mountains I have seen."

"I am not a man of the mountains. My home is in the valley on the far side of the mountains."

"Why are you not there?"

How was he going to explain that? "A man came. He killed my woman. I hunted him down and I killed him. It was a bad thing. The law said it was not a bad thing and did not punish me, but I did not like what I did. It was a bad thing."

Ka-ten-ay nodded. "You could not go to your home when your woman was not there."

"Something like that," Jarrod said. It was only part of the truth, but it was explanation enough.

Jarrod watched the children playing in the firelight. They were becoming tired, and so was he. More tired than he had ever been in his life.

XXXXXXX

When he woke up in the morning, he got himself up and washed in a still eddy in the creek. The soap he'd brought along was just about gone – it wouldn't last until he got home. The heaviness of his beard bothered him, so he shaved, too, using the razor he had brought along even though it was getting rough and needed honing. He let the few cuts to his skin bleed out a bit to ward off infection, then rinsed his face with cold water and dabbed soap on the cuts to ease the bleeding. There were still spots of stubble left, but he had done the best he could.

He looked at his reflection in eddy. How gaunt and lined his face had become. He noted how brown his face was now above the beard line and how long his black hair had grown. He looked up at the people around him. Except for the deep blue of his eyes, he looked just like them. For a moment, he wondered if he belonged here more than he belonged in that world of white people, three-piece suits, and law.

He took time to watch the children as they came out and did their morning chores, like gathering firewood or vegetables from the garden. Ah-man-ay was among them. He was happy and well and safe at home. Jarrod remembered the tears of the women, especially his mother, when Ah-man-ay came back safe to them.

He knew that practicing law was forever out of his reach now, but he still knew where he belonged. It was time for him to go home to his own family and accept their welcome and his own mother's tears.

He was deciding that cutting his long hair would have to wait until he could go to a barber in Stockton when Ah-man-ay came to him and told him, in their private language, to come eat. He hadn't noticed that cooking was going on, but now he did, and it smelled good.

He followed the boy to the fire near his family's dwelling. Ka-ten-ay was sitting by the fire, eating some fish and berries. Ah-man-ay sat beside him, and the boy's mother gave some food to Jarrod and to her son. Ka-ten-ay looked up at the clear, clean sky and said, "It will be a good day."

Jarrod looked at Ka-ten-ay, then at Ah-man-ay, and said words in English that he knew even the boy would understand, "Today I must go."

Ka-ten-ay nodded. "It is good you go back to your people. When a son is gone, it is not a good thing."

Jarrod gave Ah-man-ay a smile. "Your son made my journey easier. He will grow to be a strong man now."

"I know," Ka-ten-ay said. "You will always be welcome in our village."

Jarrod was grateful for that, but he knew something that he suspected Ka-ten-ay knew but would not say out loud, especially to his own people. The world was shrinking for the Indian people. Soon these people would be taken from their seasonal wanderings and put on a patch of land from which they could never wander. And Jarrod may never find out where that patch was. He knew that he would not see his young traveling companion again.

He watched the boy as he ate. He thought about the son he and Beth might have had, the big family they might have had around them someday, like this big family here. It would never be, and that touched the deep sad place inside him, but he could not let it live there. It had to go on its way, just as he had to go on his way, now.

He finished his food and stood up. "I must go now."

Ka-ten-ay nodded and said a few words to his woman. She disappeared while Jarrod walked to his horse and began to saddle it. As he finished, he felt Ah-man-ay standing beside him, holding a package wrapped in deerskin. Ah-man-ay held it up to him and said, in their magic language, "Food for your trip. You should not always have to eat squirrel."

Jarrod laughed, and Ah-man-ay laughed a merry little boy laugh that made Jarrod happier than he had been in a long, long time.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

He remembered reading about the journey of Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery, more than 70 years ago now. One thing that had struck him was that while it took those men over a year and a half to travel west from St. Louis to the Pacific Ocean, it took them less than six months to get home. He understood that as he traveled west and found himself making much better time than he had with Ah-man-ay on the way to his village. There was something about going home that could move a man along faster than he expected.

Maybe it was like the horse who smells his own stable miles before it comes into his owner's view. The horse hurries up even before the rider thinks to spur him on. Home meant rest, and a warm barn, and currying and brushing and good food.

He had no illusions that his horse could smell his own stable this far away, but it did seem like the beast was moving along at a faster pace, as if he knew where they were going.

He took a slight detour to a tiny town where he'd been before, years ago, to restock on ammunition and some canned food and jerky. He remembered the store owner at the mercantile – the man just looked at him like he thought he should remember him but couldn't place him. Jarrod knew he looked nothing like the well-dressed and groomed man who had been here before. He wasn't about to let on that he was the same man, so he skipped the shave and haircut. He just bought his supplies, using most of the money he had brought with him, tipped his hat and left.

It took only a little less than three weeks to reach Donner Pass. The snows were still a while off, but the air was beginning to be colder and the trees were beginning to change their color. He rode longer during the day and made camp later in the evening than he had on the trip east. He wanted to descend down into the valley in California before any bad weather came along.

As soon as he had gone through Donner Pass and begun going down instead of up, he began to feel the tingling in his stomach. It was happiness. He was going home.

XXXXXXX

Victoria was the last to arrive at breakfast on that crisp autumn morning. Even Audra was up before she was. She kissed each of her children at the table, and noted again the empty chair at the end, as she had noted it every day for more days than she could count.

"Good morning, Mother," each of her children said as she kissed them.

"Good morning," she replied to them all, and she sat and led them in prayer. Then she took her plate to the sideboard that Silas had set up with food, and began filling it. "What are the plans for the day?"

"South pasture," Nick said as he filled his own plate, Heath and Audra following along. "Moving the herd there back up to the east pasture. The winter feed's in and we're in pretty good shape to deliver the hundred head we promised to the army by the end of the week."

"Do you have enough men for the drive?"

"It's not that far. We're in good shape, can leave enough men to tend the herd we have left without any trouble."

Heath said, "We thought we'd give the hands who do the drive a day or two off in Stockton after we deliver the cattle."

"And take a day or two yourselves?" Victoria asked with a smile.

"Well…"

Audra laughed. "I don't have any real plans, Mother. Is there something you wanted to do?"

"Some autumn housecleaning," Victoria said. "Get the summer rugs outside to be cleaned and put the winter rugs down. That will take a few days at least."

Audra looked at the empty chair at the table. "It seems like the summer went so fast this year."

The others glanced that way, but Victoria's gaze settled there. Had she given up hope that he would ever come home? She wasn't sure. She had expected him to be back long before now, but it had been over six months and there was not a word from him, or from anyone who might have seen him. If he didn't come before winter set in, would he ever come back?

Was he even alive?

"Well," Nick said, wiping his mouth and getting up from the table when he was finished eating, "Heath and I need to get moving." He leaned over and kissed his mother.

"Wait," Audra said.

Nick and Heath stood where they were and looked at her.

"Can we do something before you head out?" Audra asked.

"What's that?" Victoria asked.

"I'd like to go visit Father's and Beth's graves and bring some of the autumn wildflowers that are growing behind the barn. They'll be gone in a week or so. I just thought it would be good if we all went."

Nick and Heath looked at each other. Nick shrugged.

Victoria sighed, her thoughts going from her missing son to her missing husband. Were they together now? Would she ever know?

Would the four of them going to put flowers on those graves seem too much like attending Jarrod's funeral?

No, it wouldn't. Victoria nodded. "I think that would be a good idea."

XXXXXXX

He stopped when he reached the first sign that said he was on the Barkley Ranch, though now he could believe his horse could smell his barn, he was so skittish and eager to move. Jarrod did not feel the same. There was something in seeing the sign that made him hesitate. Something touched on that nerve that made him remember that he had shamed himself and his family, something that made him wonder if they would take him back after all he had done and all the time that had passed. Something that Beth would be ashamed of.

Or all of that. Who knew? He didn't. It had been so long, and it was all his fault. He just didn't know where he stood with the Barkley family anymore.

But he couldn't just sit here forever. Someone might come along and take him for an intruder, he looked so unlike himself. He was unwashed, long-haired, bearded and gaunt, like a man who just came in from months in the wilderness – which is what he was.

He nearly turned around and left again. He looked up at the mountains he'd come from and felt the pull that way again. Maybe it would be better if he never came back.

But then – no. There was another pull, deeper into Barkley property. Or maybe more than one pull. Things to do here, words to speak, family to repent to. Love to receive the way Ah-man-ay had received the love from his family. Love to express to someone he could only hold in his heart now that he could no longer hold her in his arms.

He let his horse go the way it wanted to go, further on into the Barkley Ranch, but before he went to the house, he passed by the small graveyard where his father and his wife lay together. It was peaceful and quiet there, although he was surprised to see there were no flowers on either grave. He pulled his horse up and tethered it to a tree nearby before he took his hat off and approached the graves.

He stood for a long time in silence before he finally said, "I'm home, Beth, and I'm so sorry I let you down. You deserve to be alive. You deserve a better husband than I've turned out to be. You deserve the man I thought I was, not the man I turned into."

He thought he heard her laugh, coming from over his right shoulder. He looked, but of course, she wasn't there. But he heard it again. Maybe he really did hear it.

What he didn't hear were the horses and the buggy coming up behind him. Victoria and Audra in the buggy were a little ahead of Nick and Heath on horseback, but they slowed up when they saw they were not alone.

They saw a man with long black hair, his hat in his hand, his horse tethered nearby. His clothes were dirty, his hair hung down obscuring his face, and you could smell him before you came close to him. At first they wondered who would visit those graves in such a condition, but as they drew close, they all knew at the same time.

"Jarrod," Victoria said quietly, more deeply relieved than she had ever been in her life.

Nick and Heath dismounted fast and were running up to their brother even as Victoria and Audra were climbing out of the buggy. Jarrod didn't hear them until they were on top of him, grabbing him, hugging him, pumping his hand and slapping his back. He was overwhelmed. It had been a long time since he'd been touched with that kind of welcome. It had been since the women at Ah-man-ay's camp had touched him in gratitude for bringing Ah-man-ay home, that he'd been touched at all.

"Jarrod!" Audra cried and fell into his arms. By this time he was laughing, but he still hadn't said anything at all. He still looked almost startled at what was happening.

As Audra pulled away from her brother, Victoria stopped a few feet away and looked him over. He looked terrible. He had lost even more weight than he'd lost in Rimfire and his clothes were hanging on him like dirty cleaning rags. His hair was down past his shoulders and his beard had not been groomed since God knew when, but his eyes – his eyes were sparkling blue again. She hadn't seen anything but that sickly grey since Beth died. "Oh, Jarrod," Victoria said in complete relief and fell into his arms.

"I told you we would meet again," he finally said quietly into her ear. "I just had to find my way back."

Victoria pulled away but kept her hands on his arms. "And are you back this time, for good?"

He nodded. "If you'll have me."

Victoria began to cry then, and Jarrod saw in her the same thing he had seen in the eyes of Ah-man-ay's mother a few weeks ago. Then she said, "If you agree to shave, get a haircut and take a bath."

He laughed as his brothers slapped him on the back again. "I'll take that as a welcome home," he said.

Audra hurried back to the buggy and fetched the flowers they had brought. She quickly brought them to Jarrod's arms. "You should be the one to put these here," Audra said.

Jarrod took them, smiling awkwardly, but he nodded and put half of them on his father's grave, half on his wife's. For a moment then he closed his eyes against tears he'd felt for the first time in months. When he opened them again, he saw his family around him.

He was finally home.

The End


End file.
